We'll Never Be
by miraleeann
Summary: A one shot about Draco's thoughts and feelings towards Hermione. Warning: mature readers only please.


**Author's Note: This one is really different for me and I was really hesitant about posting it. I hope you enjoy it and feel free to tell me what you love or hate about it.**

I don't know her well enough yet to have a set personality on her, but still, I feel as if I need her. Maybe it's because of the way the uniform sits on her. It's a boring old thing, but it's so different on her… it hugs her curves in all the right places, and those legs…they seem never ending beneath those robes and that skirt.

The way she smiles at me, it's like she knows what I'm thinking and can see every dirty detail I have running through my brain. She leaves me biting the inside of my cheek with guilt but I still can't stop staring. Her breasts are perfectly round and seem as if they were made specifically for my hands only. From looking (and I have been looking a lot),

I know they'd fill my hands perfectly. She seems virtually untouched, as if she is just waiting to be ravaged by someone…by me.

Nature fully indulged itself in creating her beauty. Her hair is shimmers like gold flowing cascading down to the middle of her back. Her lips are perfectly pouted and the palest pink I have ever seen. I look at those lips…lustful…sinful…not mines to taste. I hate myself for this; she is not mine to look at in this way. I'm not supposed to think of her like this. I know what my father would say. _Muggle born_…_Mudblood_. She is everything he hates…everything I am supposed to hate.

And yet, I cannot.

She stands there - barely any makeup on, glowing, before me. I can hear her whisper my name and I shiver. Not because of the chills her voice sends up my back, but because of the airy feel she leaves against my skin. I hear it so loud…feel her breath so close to the exposed skin of my neck. _Draco_. She doesn't make a move to get closer. She's standing right there, beauty, perfection. She's too far away to touch. I can feel myself moving closer to her and with each step I can feel my body gradually getting warmer. So fucking warm.

This one's a tease.

She lets me come so close, close enough that I catch her sinful scent in my nose. Citrus with a hint of vanilla. Close enough to allow that scent to ignite every nerve ending in my body, cascading blood through the veins that would only get me in more trouble with myself. She takes me by the hand and at that point I'm fairly sure my heart has skipped three beats in a row and I'm on the verge of heart failure when she grabs me by the front of the shirt, scrunching it tightly in her grasp until she's hovering. Her breath is thick against my skin. I can smell the mint on her breath. It damn near consumes me with every word she utters and I am left in a haze. Before I can brace myself for whatever it is she has in store for me next, she's made her move and I find myself sprawled out on my bed, her sexy silhouette wasting no time in discovering my awaiting body.

The first time we met I knew from the start she was different. She wasn't like everyone else around me. She was fire. Salt in my wounds, and yet, somehow it just felt so right. It isn't just about the sex…although the sex is amazing. We've had conversations. Conversations that have lasted from midnight until seven am the next day. She tells me the things I want to hear, things no one else tells me. She's perfection at its finest, and no matter how many times I want to tell her this, I can't. Every time I've tried to the words fail me and a heavy sigh floats over my lips like I'm a love-sick puppy. She tells me, "Draco, you deserve someone who will love you for you and not this life people have made up for you. That's not who you are." I fall silent on the other end while my heart sails high above my body and bursts through the ceiling. She means it. She's not intimidated. Perhaps that is what causes me to migrate towards her without giving it a second thought.

The first time this happened I had convinced myself that it was an accident. I had convinced myself that it was a mistake…that it would never happen again. It was no mistake though. Our bodies we're so in sync with each other. It was as if they were built as two separate pieces, only whole when they were against one another.

I can still remember how her nails traveled softly over my bare chest until I was practically begging for her to take me into her mouth. It felt like razor sharp feathers against my delicate skin. She really is a tease.

Afterwards I was ashamed. Ashamed of what my friends would think. Ashamed of what my family would think…of what my father would think. I avoided her at all costs and when we had to be in the same room I never made eye contact, never even acknowledged her existence. I hated myself. For a while I thought I hated myself because I had slept with her, it wasn't until weeks, maybe months later, that I realized that I hated myself because of how I was acting, not because of what I had done.

It wasn't until the following year that it happened again. By this point I was sure we'd never have another go at each other. I was sure by now she was with Weasley…or worse Potter…neither of whom she could possibly ever find a connection with like the one we had shared. More than half the school was home for the Christmas holiday. I was shocked when I had discovered she had stayed at the school. Every year in the past she had gone home for the holiday. These were the types of things I noticed…the things I never said aloud. I was suprised when I noticed she stayed but that feeling was nothing compared to the shock I felt when I walked out of the common room to find her leaning against the hard stone wall, obviously waiting for me.

Our meeting was much stronger then. Something had sparked inside and neither of us were holding back anymore. We made love like our bodies relied on each other. I pushed her against that wall so hard I was afraid that I had hurt her or put a hole in the wall upon collision. I hadn't and she was eager- begging me; I could tell by how she grabbed my face and desperately kissed me. I honestly felt whole at that point. I can still hear and feel her pleads against my mouth to make her feel whole. She was incomplete, needed me, and I was more than willing to give her everything she wanted. I spoke to her softly while our bodies pounded fiercely against each other, "it's okay, baby. Feel me, I'm right here. You've got me. All of me." Those words seemed to sting her heart as much as they did mine because in a matter of moments she was falling apart in my arms- virtually falling to a million pieces of rock solid ecstasy, and I wasn't far behind her.

I remember holding her that night. I've never held someone as tightly as I have her. I couldn't get close enough. I remember the struggle I had with my eyes. I needed them to drink in every feature, every mood change in her sleep, just everything. I didn't want to miss a single thing. Her features are so dainty, she reminds me of a fragile doll. I'm afraid to touch her sometimes because I'm so afraid that I'll break her. But I can't keep my hands away. Her skin is softer than silk, and when she touches my body it is unlike anything I have ever felt before in my life. I can't explain it; I don't have the correct words. Her touch simply ignites me. It sends an electricity through my bones that only an electrical shock could compete with. She looks so youthful, like she's holding some secret that half of us only wish to find. I don't believe I've seen such beauty before in my entire life. Especially when the sun creeps in through my dormitory window. That's when she really glows. I'm addicted to her. I still when she starts to wake. It was like someone sucked all the air out from my body and I couldn't breathe or even command a muscle to move. She has that ability, you know. She sucks the breath out of me and leaves me motionless for days, but I feel her gentle hand against my face and I have to smile. She returns the favor and I can't control myself anymore. She's so amazing, she's everything I have ever wanted, hoped for, dreamed of, I love her.

"I love you so fucking much, please don't leave me."

She gives me this look of sadness for a brief moment, like I'd done something wrong. Again I fall silent but I can't force my eyes to shut up. They scan her face anxiously for some kind of explanation. What I'd done, what I'd said, was it that bad? She's got her way, though. Her head shakes and she places a single finger against my lips and my failing eyes shut. When I open them again she's gone. Vanished. Not Again.

I wake up the same way this morning as I always do. I am lying in my bed, covers mostly on the floor, my legs sprawled out and sweat covering my shaking body. I'm cold, alone, and half broken over the fact that I have again lost her. Dark, it's always so damn dark even with my eyes open and the peak of the sun shining through my pale white curtains. I can still smell her, and I can't explain why. That fragrance is thick in this room and will be with me everywhere I go today, tomorrow, and the day after that. She knows that. She knows I carry her with me everywhere, and I know she gets off on that. She knows everything about me. That's part of the thrill, I suppose.

I try not to be bitter about her response to my request. My pleading with her to stay with me. She's right after all. We can never be. Maybe in the future, if things are different…but I discard the wishful thought. Things will never be that different.

She and I will never be together the way I truly want us to be.


End file.
